Thursday, December 19, 2013

I was seven when I discovered that you were fat, ugly and horrible. Up until that point I had believed that you were beautiful — in every sense of the word. I remember flicking through old photo albums and staring at pictures of you standing on the deck of a boat. Your white strapless bathing suit looked so glamorous, just like a movie star. Whenever I had the chance I’d pull out that wondrous white bathing suit hidden in your bottom drawer and imagine a time when I’d be big enough to wear it; when I’d be like you.

But all of that changed when, one night, we were dressed up for a party and you said to me, ‘‘Look at you, so thin, beautiful and lovely. And look at me, fat, ugly and horrible.’’

At first I didn’t understand what you meant.

‘‘You’re not fat,’’ I said earnestly and innocently, and you replied, ‘‘Yes I am, darling. I’ve always been fat; even as a child.’’

In the days that followed I had some painful revelations that have shaped my whole life. I learned that:

1. You must be fat because mothers don’t lie.2. Fat is ugly and horrible.3. When I grow up I’ll look like you and therefore I will be fat, ugly and horrible too.

Years later, I looked back on this conversation and the hundreds that followed and cursed you for feeling so unattractive, insecure and unworthy. Because, as my first and most influential role model, you taught me to believe the same thing about myself.

With every grimace at your reflection in the mirror, every new wonder diet that was going to change your life, and every guilty spoon of ‘‘Oh-I-really-shouldn’t,’’ I learned that women must be thin to be valid and worthy. Girls must go without because their greatest contribution to the world is their physical beauty.

Just like you, I have spent my whole life feeling fat. When did fat become a feeling anyway? And because I believed I was fat, I knew I was no good.

But now that I am older, and a mother myself, I know that blaming you for my body hatred is unhelpful and unfair. I now understand that you too are a product of a long and rich lineage of women who were taught to loathe themselves.

Look at the example Nanna set for you. Despite being what could only be described as famine-victim chic, she dieted every day of her life until the day she died at seventy-nine years of age. She used to put on make-up to walk to the letterbox for fear that somebody might see her unpainted face.

I remember her ‘‘compassionate’’ response when you announced that Dad had left you for another woman. Her first comment was, ‘‘I don’t understand why he’d leave you. You look after yourself, you wear lipstick. You’re overweight — but not that much.’’

Before Dad left, he provided no balm for your body-image torment either.

‘‘Jesus, Jan,’’ I overheard him say to you. ‘‘It’s not that hard. Energy in versus energy out. If you want to lose weight you just have to eat less.’’

That night at dinner I watched you implement Dad’s ‘‘Energy In, Energy Out: Jesus, Jan, Just Eat Less’’ weight-loss cure. You served up chow mein for dinner. (Remember how in 1980s Australian suburbia, a combination of mince, cabbage, and soy sauce was considered the height of exotic gourmet?) Everyone else’s food was on a dinner plate except yours. You served your chow mein on a tiny bread-and-butter plate.

As you sat in front of that pathetic scoop of mince, silent tears streamed down your face. I said nothing. Not even when your shoulders started heaving from your distress. We all ate our dinner in silence. Nobody comforted you. Nobody told you to stop being ridiculous and get a proper plate. Nobody told you that you were already loved and already good enough. Your achievements and your worth — as a teacher of children with special needs and a devoted mother of three of your own — paled into insignificance when compared with the centimeters you couldn’t lose from your waist.

It broke my heart to witness your despair and I’m sorry that I didn’t rush to your defense. I’d already learned that it was your fault that you were fat. I’d even heard Dad describe losing weight as a ‘‘simple’’ process — yet one that you still couldn’t come to grips with. The lesson: you didn’t deserve any food and you certainly didn’t deserve any sympathy.

But I was wrong, Mum. Now I understand what it’s like to grow up in a society that tells women that their beauty matters most, and at the same time defines a standard of beauty that is perpetually out of our reach. I also know the pain of internalising these messages. We have become our own jailors and we inflict our own punishments for failing to measure up. No one is crueler to us than we are to ourselves.

But this madness has to stop, Mum. It stops with you, it stops with me and it stops now. We deserve better — better than to have our days brought to ruin by bad body thoughts, wishing we were otherwise.

And it’s not just about you and me any more. It’s also about Violet. Your granddaughter is only three and I do not want body hatred to take root inside her and strangle her happiness, her confidence and her potential. I don’t want Violet to believe that her beauty is her most important asset; that it will define her worth in the world. When Violet looks to us to learn how to be a woman, we need to be the best role models we can. We need to show her with our words and our actions that women are good enough just the way they are. And for her to believe us, we need to believe it ourselves.

The older we get, the more loved ones we lose to accidents and illness. Their passing is always tragic and far too soon. I sometimes think about what these friends — and the people who love them — wouldn’t give for more time in a body that was healthy. A body that would allow them to live just a little longer. The size of that body’s thighs or the lines on its face wouldn’t matter. It would be alive and therefore it would be perfect.

Your body is perfect too. It allows you to disarm a room with your smile and infect everyone with your laugh. It gives you arms to wrap around Violet and squeeze her until she giggles. Every moment we spend worrying about our physical ‘‘flaws’’ is a moment wasted, a precious slice of life that we will never get back.

Let us honor and respect our bodies for what they do instead of despising them for how they appear. Focus on living healthy and active lives, let our weight fall where it may, and consign our body hatred in the past where it belongs. When I looked at that photo of you in the white bathing suit all those years ago, my innocent young eyes saw the truth. I saw unconditional love, beauty and wisdom. I saw my Mum.

This is a necklace I made for my oldest grand daughter.
I stamped the cat onto the fabric before making this. The
cord is made from bias tape that I did a little free motion
drawing on then colored with permanent marker before
spraying with alcohol to get the tie dyed effect.

I also made her this brooch…it's just the center part…
I've attached it to a piece of card stock. This one I drew
with thread and then ran a blanket stitch around the outside
to attach it to a piece of felt before adding the pin.

I'm not sure what direction I'm heading with this thread
drawing but I'm liking it…..

Friday, November 22, 2013

I've been in my studio tonight painting cloth to make a cuff
bracelet for my daughter.

She's my youngest daughter…and loves

that funky green color. I was thinking I would cut

squares from each one and sew them together to

make the cuff.

I played around with my grans pictures in Photoshop

until I got the look I wanted…taped some cloth to
a sheet of paper…and printed a strip with their pics.
My plan is to put the strip down the center of the
cuff and if there's enough room maybe add some
embellishments.

This is the mock up. I think I'm going to use a button on
one end and elastic loop on the other instead of a
snap or tie….not sure…maybe a snap would be
better since she's still carrying around the little one.

Pilottown, LA – Miss Hazel Brown of Pilottown, Louisiana is about to attempt the unattemptable. Miss Brown (Miss is short for Mississippi) has been preparing to navigate all 2,320 miles of the Mississippi River in a simple wooden boat, with only one paddle, and she will be taking her goats along with her for company. Her hometown friends and neighbors have started calling her the “Goat Boat Woman”.

At 88 years young, Miss(issippi) Brown worked as a high school guidance counselor for 50 years where she guided students down the river of life. Her avocation has always been studying maps, as both of her parents were professional cartographers.

When asked how she decided to do this, she said: “T’was always our plan to do this ever since I was younger, but we seem to’ve procrastinated it a bit now, haven’t we? Well, better late than never, as they always say!”

Hazel’s journey will take her and her caprine (goat-like) friends along or through 10 different states and 128 towns. “As a long-time map lover, I know the route very well.”

The Goat Boat will begins its trip at the river’s source which is Lake Itasca, Minnesota, where the elevation is 1,475 feet above the Gulf of Mexico.

As an amateur cartographer, Hazel knows the first town they will pass by in each of the 10 states:

Their big adventure will hopefully culminate with a big celebration at the mouth of the Mississippi, which is her hometown of Pilottown, Louisiana in Plaquemines Parish at elevation zero.

When asked about dams, Hazel said there’s no need to swear. (Apparently, her three sons will coordinate the portaging of Hazel’s Goat Boat around any dangerous dam-type situations.)

When asked what they will eat, Hazel is hoping that local riverside church groups that she has contacted will bring her small cardboard boxes with some “surprises” in them. For the goats, she says they pretty much eat anything, including broad-leafed plants, any parts of trees, and of course, they love cardboard boxes.

WOW…..88 yrs young…..Marvelous!

I haven't been able to find out how her trip went but would love to know!!!

Sunday, September 22, 2013

Saturday, September 21, 2013

What's for lunch? Paleo Chili and black bean chips.
I found this recipe on Paleo On A Budget. In case you're
wondering...I'm not eating totally Paleo....just healthy...
and there are a lot of healthy Paleo recipes out there.

This recipe suggested putting all the raw ingredients in
a crock pot but I always like to pour off any grease when
I use hamburger so I made this on the stove top and then
put it in the crockpot on low for eight hours. It also
called for two chicken breasts but I felt like that was a little much.

This Chili was YUMMY! I froze cup size servings in freezer
bags to pull out as needed.

I used a regular size muffin pan and this yielded 9 muffins.
This is not a sweet tasting muffin...more like a bread...so
if you crave that sweetness adjust your honey or try another
type of organic sweetener.

There is a recipe on this site for a Carrot Pumpkin Spice Muffin
this sounds like something I NEED to try next.

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My Tarot Card Is The Hermit

You are The Hermit

The Hermit points to all things hidden, such as knowledge and inspiration,hidden enemies. The illumination is from within, and retirement from participation in current events.

The Hermit is a card of introspection, analysis and, well, virginity. You do not desire to socialize; the card indicates, instead, a desire for peace and solitude. You prefer to take the time to think, organize, ruminate, take stock. There may be feelings of frustration and discontent but these feelings eventually lead to enlightenment, illumination, clarity.

The Hermit represents a wise, inspirational person, friend, teacher, therapist. This a person who can shine a light on things that were previously mysterious and confusing.